heart game - MK, rinku

[wroughtandtempered]

I’m sorry. I tried— I tried, but I can’t keep going—

I don’t think I can do this alone, so— Please. Please—

I need help.

Comments

[roundandaround]

Rinku wrinkles her nose. She shifts back to her small gryphon form and starts inspecting the burned things on the floor, batting at pieces.

"What got all burned up in here?" She sniffs. "Is this that 'stuff she doesn't need,' you think?"

[noodleboi]

"I don't know..." MK said softly as he looked around the room. He moved to gently touch the broom and dustpan first.

"We touch things, see if we get memories, I think. That's how one of the games I was in worked. Just be gentle. And I don't see where we actually burn things in here. At least, not yet."

[wroughtandtempered]

Speaking of memories, or things like them—

As you touch the broom, spite and stubbornness fills you, and you both hear an echo of a conversation between Eve and Korone:

“The idea of making long-term plans might seem kinda wild after everything — ... But, the future is there for you. You've got time to rest. Time to be. Time to think about what you wanna do, and how you might be able to do it...”

“...Thanks, babe. ... It is incredibly fucking wild, though. I'm trying to work on it? But I am so fucking out of practice at that and a bunch of other shit, it's almost funny.”

“Learning and relearning how to live is a whole thing. ... a lot of my decorating habit is driven by — mm, not really spite, but, "I'm here and this is mine. Fuck off."

“—oh. Shit? ... I didn't even think of— why the fuck didn't I think of that, Choco-chan—”

[noodleboi]

MK blinks as the feelings fill him. He hears the conversation and smiles a little. Korone is a good person and good for Eve, clearly. He starts to move around and sweep up the room. Cleaning up what he could. Burning what wasn't needed. The destruction would count, right?

"Rinku, can you touch the pictures and see what you feel and see, I guess?"

[roundandaround]

"Eh? Okay!"

She shifts to human and gently touches the beach picture first. What's going on in there?

"The paper that got all burned up... You think those were pictures too?"

[wroughtandtempered]

It's a lineless watercolor painting of Eve, Korone, and Donnie together on a beach, watching the sunset together. Touching it, you feel—

Love, deep and overwhelming; a slow bloom of hope and longing; and the feeling of coming home. There is an echo of Eve’s voice, faint but determined:

“…We’re making it happen.

I don't care what I have to do. I don’t care who I have to fight. I don't fucking care if it takes forever to really come true. This is ours.”

[roundandaround]

Rinku's eyes sparkle aggressively, and she spins in a circle on her heel.

"This one's really happy, MK-san! Look!" She hums excitedly. Suddenly, she pauses. "It's like... she's been fighting something. Like they all were, or still are. I don't get it. Ellipsa isn't that bad, right? People are happy here."

[noodleboi]

"Not every world is a happy one," MK said softly as he looked over his shoulder at Rinku.

"Eve and the others have been to worlds that were a lot worse than Ellipsa. That is a good memory then so it should stay. Definitely don't want to burn that. Check the others?"

[roundandaround]

"Yeah..."

Rinku shivered. She went over to touch the house photo instead.

"I don't think I'd wanna keep the bad ones, but aren't bad memories also part of the person? So I don't know if she'd want to lose those either. Aren't we supposed to not wreck anything?"

[wroughtandtempered]

It's an oil painting of a house in Art Deco style. The frame is lightly charred, but still solid enough.

Touching it, you hear an echo of a conversation between Eve and another voice:

“...If— if it's like that for both of us. If this is what we've got... when the dust settles. Do we want to work on making it home for real? ...I've been sort of half-assing it, since I don't need a lot. But we both— if we can have better, we deserve better.”

“Ha. You've been half-assing it? I've been trying every time. … But yeah. We deserve better here. So. Let's give it our all, yeah?”

“...Yeah. ... This is the first time I've lived in a house in years, okay, settling the fuck down took a while.”

“Oh. …Oh, nah, no, we're gonna keep working on winning and see if we can get some dope upgrades or something and make this a home. All right?”

—and then a sense of profound regret and helplessness rolls over you, before curdling into grief and longing. You know that in the end, this promise was broken.

[roundandaround]

Rinku cries out.

Maybe she was unprepared. She clenches her fist in front of her chest and leans on the wall. She breathes in and out hard, shaking from the feeling influx.

"...I think she lost somebody, MK-san. Like with Shion-chan and Rika-chan. How people disappear from these places and go home sometimes. She wanted to live with somebody, and then it didn't happen."

[noodleboi]

"Just take a deep breath. Try to center yourself. ...We lose people and it hurts. It lasts. We don't want to burn that then either. She might forget that person. Forget the happy memories too. Do you need me to touch the other ones? I'm almost done with the desk."

[roundandaround]

Rinku takes a breath and looks at the photo, then at MK. She rubs her arms, trying to stave off the cold, and stands up taller.

"It's okay. If Eve-chan needs the help, I'm gonna do my best. Okay?"

She breathes in and out like he asks, and then goes to touch the clinic photo. That one's something from Ellipsa. Maybe it'll be nice.

[wroughtandtempered]

It's an oil painting of the clinic.

Touching it fills you with determination, with an undercurrent of spite. This is yours— your heritage, your dream, and you won’t let it be taken from you again.

[wroughtandtempered]

Most of the ashes and other debris is easily swept up— with the exception of the smoldering pile near the desk, which doesn't seem to want to move.

[noodleboi]

"Stubborn huh?" MK set the broom and dust pan aside and reached out to touch the pile first. Then if that doesn't do anything, he'll touch the desk after.

[wroughtandtempered]

Taking a closer look at it... it looks like the primary fuel was paper, but most of it’s too badly burned to make out what might have been on it. One or two fragments are intact enough that pencil markings can be made out, but none are complete enough to see what they might have been.

When you touch it, you get a sense of tired resignation— an it-can’t-be-helped sort of feeling. ...But as it fades, you’re left feeling a little warmer.

Will you stoke the fire? It feeds on ambition; you'll have to give up a desire you have for yourself or for another.

[noodleboi]

MK swallowed. Oh. Ambition. It feeds on ambition. He has a knee jerk idea but reigns himself back. Don't be so fast, don't rush. Because...

Don't go. He can hear the voice in his head. He will have to think on it. Right now, he looks at the desk. He'll try to check it out, see if there's anything still inside.

[wroughtandtempered]

The desk is mostly covered in scraps of twisted and melted metal. What few pieces are intact seem to be an eclectic collection of small mechanical parts: gears, cylinders for music boxes, screws... There doesn’t seem to be a cohesive theme to the odds and ends.

The middle of the desk, however, has been cleared to make room for a set of pencils and an open sketchbook, and one corner has a few pristine textbooks (chemistry, biology) set carefully on the filthy surface. A large velvet box like the kind used for jewelry sits a little ways away from the books.

The sketchbook has a jagged fragment of silvery mirror sitting on its pages, which are blurry and faded as though messily erased. Some of the lines have been unsteadily retraced, however; it’s enough to make out that it is (was?) a sketch of Korone and Donnie from the back as they hold hands. ...There is also an empty space curled around them, but not enough lines have been redrawn to really make out what it is.

The desk drawers don't seem to want to open, possibly due to the fire damage.

[noodleboi]

MK looked at the scraps. Was she making something? He looks at the clean things. Okay. Sketching and drawing. Some textbooks, makes sense. Eve studied like her mom, right? He looked at the box. He tries to open it.

The jagged mirror piece, he tries to see if he can see anything in it's reflection. The drawing of Korone and Donnie he gently touches, careful to not smudge the drawing. Just trying to see if he feels anything.

Drawers don't want to open so he won't force it.

[wroughtandtempered]

The box opens to reveal a vivid blue gemstone, just the right size to fit into your palm.

...The mirror is definitely not reflecting the rest of the room. It's difficult to see what it is, though; the fragment just isn't big enough to make out enough detail.

Touching the drawing fills you with a sense of uncertainty, and something like shame.

[noodleboi]

"Boy do I feel you on that one," MK says softly as he pulls his hand from the picture. He picks up the gemstone next. And he'll pocket the mirror shard. Maybe there are more shards in other places.

/2

[wroughtandtempered]

As you pick up the gemstone, you remember—

Your fingers close around a blue gemstone, and what blasts through you is not yours but settles against your heart nonetheless:

You've seen the breaking parts underlying the pristine surface, the lives that struggle and can't wait another decade, another year, another day. And you've felt the resistance; nature has made us intolerant to change. But we have the capacity to change our nature.

You find inspiration in what can be better.

…It is very roughly like taking a blow to the head— if head trauma left you with a manic desire to uproot your fucked up horrible society and smash it against a wall until people stopped being dicks, instead of a probable concussion. …You think of almost every other hybrid you’ve met, their spirits crushed underneath the disregard of “whole” people; you think of your friend Cat calling you a “hero” as though you deserved the title.

Maybe— gods. It’s such a stupid fucking idea; you’re just one shitty hybrid teenager with more spite than sense. But you’ve got friends, now; people who would back you up if you asked them. If you could change things— if you could make things even just a little bit better for the other people like you—

You want that so badly it fucking hurts.

[wroughtandtempered]

You pick up the shard of mirror.

Instantly, pain slices through your fingers— but when you look there’s no sign of blood. Instead, you can hear Eve’s voice, faintly:

“…there’s no point. Wanting’s for people.”

…something appears to be happening with the drawing it had been resting on, however. A single pencil stroke appears; then another. And another. Soon, enough lines have been redrawn to fill the empty space with Eve in her beast form, curled around and supporting Korone and Donnie’s backs.

[wroughtandtempered]

Most of it's too burnt to tell what it might have been, but there is the odd bit of singed paper.